


Goodnight

by tehdono



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cute, Family, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-03
Updated: 2012-07-03
Packaged: 2017-11-09 02:19:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/450169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehdono/pseuds/tehdono
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Three years ago, they would have never given each other so much as a glance—at least not willingly. How did they come from being bitter rivals…to this? Moreover, what was 'this?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodnight

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fan fiction I transferred over from ff.net. It's personally one of my favorites in it's adorableness.

The silence of her house was interrupted by a loud rapture of giggles from above. Elizabeta looked curiously towards the direction of the child’s room up on the second floor. Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, the Hungarian woman brought her book to a close with a slight thud. She looked at the clock, noting that it was well past his bed-time. The life of a nation began early and little Frederic had to get up with her if he was ever to make it to the daycare in time or if she was to make it to work.

Frederic—Freddy as they affectionately called him—was indeed her son.

It was strange. Ten years ago and Elizabeta would have scoffed at the idea of her having a child. She was a nation, strong, proud. Marriages hardly fit into the equation, let alone a child. The people of the world sometimes even questioned a nation’s ability to even have children. Yet the little boy, who endearingly carried features similar to her own crushed these rumors. Yes; it was quite possible for the nations of the world to bear their own children. But the world had yet to distinguish the political importance of these events.

But Elizabeta tried not to dwell on it too much. Instead she looked towards her son and smiled. If she troubled herself with the political consequences of her actions, she could not simply enjoy what she had. Who would have thought that such a tiny child could bring so much happiness?

She laid the book down on her side table, deciding to get up and ascend the stairs. Though Frederic was only a few years old, he was a remarkable child. He brushed his teeth as he was told, ate all of his vegetables; he even went to bed with the light off. Truly, Elizabeta had never known such a blessed parent. During her long pregnancy, Elizabeta had heard stories of unruly children but she had never experienced it.

But that’s not to say he wasn’t still just a child. All that he needed was to be told to go to bed and Frederic would settle down on his own. He may argue or ask for a story, which she would oblige without hesitation.

Yes, Elizabeta had quickly transformed from a striving warrior to a doting mother. And while she had been scared, all of the mothering techniques she had developed seemed to be second nature. It was as if the maternal instincts everyone woman was said to have suddenly blossomed within her. 

“Again!” a childish voice cried as Elizabeta ascended the stairs leading to her son’s room, causing her to stop.

As she drew closer to the bedroom, another voice laughed in response, causing a sudden strike of fear to leap into her chest. She had thought that Frederic was alone upstairs, ready for bed. But that appeared not to be the case. Elizabeta suddenly wished she had brought that cast-iron frying pan with her. At first, she had worried there was a stranger until a sense of familiarity began to ring in the air.

That voice… Elizabeta _knew_ that voice. Her fear had turned into a burning anger and she continued to her march up the stairs. Didn’t he know it was past ten o’clock? It was long past time that her son should have been sound asleep. She was long since stopped questioning how it was that the intruder had entered her house. Instead she let herself become fueled with rage at his lack of responsibility. Determined to set him straight, Elizabeta pushed open the door, intending to beat him to a bloody pulp…but she stopped.

The room was simply decorated, as Elizabeta could not afford much, but it was furnished. A small toddler-sized bed sat on the floor, surrounded by toys and books that Frederic had collected in his short three years of life, which had amounted for quite a lot. But she hadn’t been looking at the mess that was his room—while Freddy was a wonderful child, he was still just a child. A messy bedroom was a given. No, what she found herself watching was the scene in front of her.

“Higher Vatti!” Laughter from bother parties emanated from the bedroom. Elizabeta, who had been dead set on a rage-filled rampage against the intruder, stopped.

With his arms outstretched was her beautiful son, a smile painted on his face.  As soon as Elizabeta saw this the rage-fueled fire began to dampen, and her fear/anger induced edge began to dull. It was amazing the effect this child had on her life. It had quelled the readiness that Elizabeta was to fight, yet also edged her willingness to fight to protect that much more.

Holding the toddler in the air were a pair lanky, but strong arms. No longer wearing the Prussian blue of his destroyed military, the prime-distinguishing features were his crimson eyes beneath a white curtain of hair. A nearly identical smile on his face, Gilbert continued to bounce Freddy in the air, laughing all the while. They had both seemed oblivious to her in the doorway as Elizabeta sat there for what felt like hours, just watching the two of them.

“Ah! It’s Mama,” the little boy gasped, immediately noticing that he had been caught. The silver-haired Prussian turned around, his expression softening as he saw her leaning in the doorway. The look in his eyes was something that she had yet to decipher.

Gilbert set the boy down on his bed, flashing the young boy a devious smile. “Ah! Wir haben von die General schreckliche Mama angefängt! Rückzug!” he exclaimed dramatically in German, moving to hide behind the bed, throwing a stuffed animal towards the door. Elizabeta laughed. [We’ve been caught by evil General Mama! Retreat!]

“Ich verstehe auch deutsch, Gilbert.” [I understand German too, Gilbert] Freddy giggled in response to this, and the Prussian moved out of his hiding spot, acting hurt, but he returned a smile to the Hungarian in the window. Elizabeta felt her cheeks begin to tint with color, but quickly shook it off. “Anyways, it’s time to stop playing and go to bed.”

“AWW!” both father and son whined in unison. Elizabeta rolled her eyes at the two of them. Normally the toddler wouldn’t argue much but he could not help but act like a kid when Prussia, the biggest kid of them all, was around.

“No buts,” she said firmly, causing both to deflate dejectedly, making her look like the bad guy.

Unexpectedly, Gilbert turned around and sat down so that he was face to face with Frederic, lifting a hand to rub the toddler’s ash brown head. “Mama’s right though. Good soldiers go to bed. They need to regain their strength to defend their country.”

When placed like that, face to face right next to each other, Elizabeta couldn’t reject the fact anymore. Gilbert was definitely Frederic’s father. Though at first glance, one wouldn’t suspect it. Gilbert’s unique appearance were genuine recessive traits. Gilbert had hoped that Frederic would have his albinism-like appearance. But Frederic was brown haired and green eyed, much to his father’s dismay. But where Frederic hadn’t inherited from his mother, it took strongly after his father. Everything was the same: nose, eyes, jaw. Elizabeta smiled, realizing Frederic looked almost just like a young Prussia when he was his age—just with different colors.

As if suddenly realizing his duty, Frederic nodded quickly before stepping back and giving his father what, even Elizabeta had to admit, was a fail-attempt at a salute. Whereas the former Hungarian solider giggled, the Prussian paid no heed, saluting his son in return. Little Freddy quickly scampered to the other end of the bed, before jumping in the covers.

Gilbert joined Elizabeta at the door. The two exchanged a silent smile. As he turned around, grabbing the door handle. As he began to close it, a familiar train of questions began to take root. Three years ago, they would have never given each other so much as a glance—at least not willingly. They had a rivalry that span from their childhood up until the beginnings of the great world wars. He had bullied her, she fought him. She had hated his guts and still firmly in love with her ex-husband Roderich. How did they come from being bitter rivals…to this?

Moreover, what was ‘this’?

“Mama!” Freddy called, pulling her out of her own thoughts. “Jó Éjt.” [Hungarian: Goodnight]

“Jó Éjt,” she responded, flashing a serene smile at her son.

“Guten Nacht, Vatti.” [German: Goodnight, Daddy.]

Gilbert smiled, reaching over to the light switch and turning off the light. “Guten Nacht, Frederic”

The three year old yawned in response, laying down to curl up with his favorite teddy bear. Gilbert turned around and walked out into the hallway but Elizabeta stood there for a moment, gazing through the crack in the doorway (Elizabeta never liked to close the door completely so she could hear him if he called for her). It had only taken minutes for the boy to fall asleep. She leaned her head against the door frame, a serene calmness overtaking her. _If the other nations could realize feeling,_ Elizabeta thought to herself, _world peace just might be possible._

A gentle touch on her arm brought Elizabeta back to the present. She looked over to see the familiar smile flashed in her direction. Gilbert nodded towards the stairs in silence before heading in that direction, Elizabeta right behind him.

“You’re really great with him you know,” she said after they had left the immediate proximity of Frederic’s bedroom. “I normally have to fight him to get to bed.”

“Of course I am! I’m his Dad!” Gilbert boasted proudly. “Besides, Freddy isn’t the first kid I’ve had to raise.”

Elizabeta nodded. Of course, Gilbert had practically raised Ludwig after the disappearance of their only living relative, their grandfather. Naturally in the years he raised Ludwig, he’d have realized some tricks. But seeing Ludwig in comparison to his older brother, one would doubt that they even came from the same gene pool.

 “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Gilbert said, interrupting her thoughts as they reached the bottom of the stairs.  “I just wanted to see Freddy tonight.”

“No, it’s fine. It made him really happy.”

A silence passed between them—that awkward silence, the silence that says ‘If it were by our own choice, neither of us would be in this situation’. At least, that’s what both thought their silence was to say. It was true that Frederic’s life was a complete accident; a night of stupidity that neither had even thought of repeating since they had heard the news. But there was more to their silence than just the awkwardness of their situation.

Neither of them looked at each other. Elizabeta played with the hem of her skirt, nervously rubbing the fabric between her fingers. In the three years that they had raised Freddy, she had yet to overcome the swarm of emotions she had yet to name and that seemed to bother her more than the fact she was raising a child. Why hadn’t she continued her fit of rage and just attacked him as she would three years ago? Why did her heart speed up and then almost stop every time she saw him?

“I guess I should be going,” Gilbert finally said, breaking the silence. He turned the door handle, obviously set on walking out at least, that was before she spoke up.

“…You don’t have to.”

Gilbert sighed, turning to look at Elizabeta. As emerald met crimson, she noticed a sad emotion within them. “Eliza, we’ve talked about this.”

“I know.”

He walked over to the living room set, taking a seat on the burgundy couch. Elizabeta followed suit, sitting opposite of him. Pain seemed to flash through his eyes as he gained the courage to look back up at her. “I don’t want to marry you just because we have a son.”

“Freddy deserves a family. Not just a mother and a father, but a family,” she said quietly, hesitant to speak. But affirmation forced her to speak up. “He comes home from daycare and asks me why we aren’t married—“

“—What he deserves,” Gilbert said forcefully, interjecting her speech, “is a mother and father who love each other. I want to marry you because I love you and for no other reason.”

She had known his response. They had spent the first year of Freddy’s life arguing over this very fact. She had been intent on them getting married, whereas Gilbert had been insistent on the same question. Gilbert turned to her, taking Elizabeta’s hands in his. She looked him in the eyes, noting the intensity of his crimson orbs.

“Do you love me?”

“I love that you’re a wonderful father,” Elizabeta answered after a short pause with a gentle smile. “I love that you’re a great and wonderful friend, despite our current relationship. I love how you put Freddy first in everything, how you’re taking care of him when I can’t. You’re the best person I could ever ask for when it comes to having a child, and I’m glad that I was able to do it with you.

“…but do you love _me_?”

Elizabeta sat there, silent. The words continued to echo in her head. How could she respond to that? She just couldn’t. Did she love him? How could she know anymore? Was that the serene bliss she felt when they spent time together with their son? Or was that the calm she felt when telling jokes with each other after Frederic had gone to sleep? Or was it a new feeling she had yet to feel? After everything they had been through, their relationship right now, the term love wasn’t as simple as it once was.

Gilbert placed her hands in her lap, causing Elizabeta to follow his movements. She barely caught a brief glimpse of the pain that overflowed from his eyes before he stood up to walk out the door. Had it been another person, Elizabeta would have sworn she saw tears forming in his eyes. Whether she had sat there hours or seconds, she could not tell. She was pulled from her frozen stupor as she heard her front door creak open.

Looking up, Elizabeta found the Prussian opening the front door, his crimson eyes hidden beneath the shadow cast by his messy blonde hair. “Well, I guess I should be going…” he repeated from earlier, already half way out the door. “Goodnight, Eliza.”

But this time, she didn’t stop him.


End file.
